


Fickle Finger of Fate

by SevReed



Category: Victorious
Genre: F/F, Jori (Victorious)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 12:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevReed/pseuds/SevReed
Summary: Tori meets a fortune-teller who is not what she seems. One-shot.





	Fickle Finger of Fate

Tori walked arm in arm with Trina through the carnival. She wouldn't normally have wanted to spend quite this much time with her sister, but then she hadn't had much choice - Beck was away in Canada, Andre had taken Cat to see her brother, and Jade had a summer job so mysterious that Tori suspected it was either deeply embarrassing or borderline illegal. Either way, Tori had found herself at a loose end.

They made their way past the stalls and rides, hot dog sellers and cotton candy stands. Trina was clutching a stuffed bear, which she hadn't so much won, as simply brow-beaten the man into giving her in the hope that she'd go away. It was then that Tori saw the tent.

It was tucked away in the corner, overshadowed by the dodgem track, shabby, unprepossessing, with a small hand-painted sign saying, 'Gypsy Emerald - Palms Read, Fortunes Told'.

Trina saw it too. "Oh, God."

"What?" Tori said.

"Please tell me you're not going to."

"Oh, come on," Tori said. "It'll be fun."

"No it won't Tori. Trust me. It's a sham."

"What about that time they said I'd meet a tall, dark stranger? They got that right."

"That was Abraham Lincoln."

"Still counts."

"He was a waxwork."

Tori pouted. "Well I'm going in."

"Fine. But give me the money. I saw a couple of cute guys over by the ring-toss. I'll meet you there."

"Okay."

"And for God's sake, Tori, try not to believe everything they tell you. You're way too gullible."

.

.

.

It was dark inside the tiny tent, a single candle illuminating the hunched, wizened figure sat at the table. At least Tori assumed she was wizened, her head and face were covered in black lace and a shawl covered the rest of her body down to the floor. The only part of her that was visible were black-painted fingertips resting on the edge of the table in front of the large and slightly tarnished crystal ball.

"Um, hi," Tori said.

The figure stiffened at her voice but said nothing, and Tori began to wonder if she'd offended her by her lack of gravitas. She lowered her voice. "I mean, _greetings_."

The figure spoke, finally, a thin, distant voice, the rustle of leaves. "Come in, my child." She beckoned to a stool by the table.

Tori shuffled in and sat down in the cramped confines of the tent. "Thanks."

"What is it you wish?"

"Er..." Tori hadn't really thought about it. "To know my future?"

The figure nodded. "Then first you must cross my palm with silver."

"I... what?"

"Five dollars."

"Oh." Tori fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a note. She placed it on the table, from where it vanished under the shawl with alarming speed.

"Now," the figure said, "let us begin." She began to wave her hands across the crystal ball. "First I will tell you your past."

"My past?"

"You have been on a journey. A long journey. A journey from who you were, to who you are."

Tori groaned inwardly. This was the sort of thing that Trina had warned her about, vague mumbo-jumbo that could apply to anyone. "Yes?"

"Yes. You have come from a place where you were comfortable but uninspired, to a place where you have the opportunity to reach your dreams. It was not a journey you set out on by choice, but fate made you take the first step. And now, _now_ you are in the place you were always meant to be."

Tori, desperate as always to give people the benefit of the doubt, considered this. She'd come from Sherwood to Hollywood Arts, that could be a 'journey'. Well, you had to take a bus, anyway. She nodded.

"But things are not as you wish in the present," the old woman continued. " You are not happy. Everything you want is within your grasp, but you feel unworthy, unsure. You have admiration, but still you feel you will never be good enough. You have friends, but you feel lonely. Unfulfilled. An emptiness gnaws at your heart. You have depths they can never fathom, passions they cannot imagine. You smile so that they won't see it, but inside you feel lost."

Tori's stomach dropped with a lurch. This wasn't usually how the script went, and she began to feel that something wasn't quite right. "And the future?" she said, hesitantly.

The voice grew low, grave. "What do you want from the future?"

Tori hadn't realized she was going to be given an option. "I dunno," she said. "Success? Fame?" There was a long silence that implied that these were unworthy goals for the gods of fate to consider. "Love?" she added, hopefully.

"Love?" the old woman repeated. "Ah, love." She leaned close to the crystal ball, the veil brushing the glass. "Is there someone you desire?"

Tori shifted, uncomfortably. "Yes."

"I see," the woman said. "And does he know?"

Tori swallowed. She knew she should just lie, but somehow it felt wrong. She licked dry lips. She'd never told anyone before. "It's not a 'he'."

The figure froze for a moment, hands poised over the ball. "Ah," she breathed.

"What?" Tori said, anxiously. "What is it?"

"You're afraid."

"No," she protested. "Well, a little, I guess. A lot, really. Yes."

"Why?"

"Well..." She _really_ shouldn't be telling a complete stranger, but it felt almost cathartic, baring her soul like this. "It's a girl at school," she said. "I know I shouldn't, I know it's stupid, because she doesn't like me, and we fight all the time, and she's kind of mean, and sometimes she tries to kill me..."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Um, It kind of is."

"Oh."

"But sometimes," Tori went on, "sometimes… I see something in her eyes. Something kind, something _soft_. As though it's all an act, and the real her is there inside, just out of reach, waiting for me. And when I see that I just… can't help myself. I fall in love with her all over again."

There was a long silence. Finally, the figure spoke.

"And have you thought about telling her?"

"She'll laugh at me."

"Maybe she won't."

"She will."

"She might feel the same."

"She doesn't.."

"You could still try."

"I can't."

"You can."

"It's really not-"

"Just tell her, for God's sake," the figure snapped. Tori sat back, blinking in shock. The figure relaxed slightly, and there was a clearing of the throat. "I mean, the eyes of fate look kindly upon you," it said. "The omens portend an auspicious outcome. The confluence of the stars suggest a fruitful endeavor."

"What?"

"The ball says 'yes'."

"Oh." Tori stared at the ball, unable to think of anything to say. She'd never known a fortune-teller give such a decisive answer before. "Right. I mean, good." She hesitated. "You really think-

"Begone!" the figure cried. "The ball has spoken! Make haste, my child. Your destiny awaits!"

"Right, I'll just-"

"No time! There is a tide in the affairs of men that taken at its flood leads on to fortune. You must call upon your intended and lay the proposition bare, before the next full moon."

Tori jumped up. "Whoa, what? When's that?"

"Tonight, around eight-ish."

"Around..?"

"That is when Venus is at its zenith."

"Oh, right." Tori hurriedly grabbed her jacket. "Then I'm on it."

"Good girl."

Tori opened the tent flap. "Oh, about the other stuff..."

"Other stuff?"

"The fame, and fortune, and..."

"Oh, that," the figure said, dismissively. "Yeah, it's all good. I'm sure you'll be a roaring success. Now go!"

.

.

.

Tori stood outside the house, fretting with indecision. In the cold light of day, the fortune-teller's conviction seemed a little less compelling, and slightly more inclined towards disaster. And yet she'd been so sure, as if she _knew_ it was true _. There is a tide in the affairs of men…_ Where had she heard that before? She looked at the object in her hand. "I'm an idiot," she muttered to herself. "A gullible idiot."

But still she knocked on the door. If it all went wrong, she decided, she could always pretend it was a for a play.

.

.

.

It was nearly eight o'clock when Jade West heard the knock at the door and looked out of the upstairs window. Tori was outside, hopping from foot to foot, nervous as a cat. And she'd brought what looked like flowers. Jade allowed herself a soft smile. She turned back and looked at herself in the mirror. A short summer dress, sandals, and a ribbon in her hair. Something different, for a change. Something _soft._ She wasn't sure what the future held, it was unknowable, daunting, an adventure that she was only now setting out on. But she was happier than she'd ever been. She reached into the closet for a jacket, and her hand brushed against something. A long, black lace shawl, dusty and faded with age. There was at least one thing she could be certain the future didn't hold.

She could never, _ever_ tell Tori about the summer she spent working the fortune-teller's booth at the carnival.

She skipped down the stairs towards her date with destiny.

 


End file.
